Falling from Grace
by Charuka
Summary: It is approximately five years after the setting for the TMNT movie 2007. The four brothers are learning that being an adult can be even more complicated than being a teenager.
1. Chapter 1

**Falling from Grace**

_It wasn't supposed to be like this…_

Childhood memories crashed and collided, creating a kaleidoscope of colour and sound in a mind that wished only to be blissfully blank.

They were roughly forced to the back of that mind, to dwell with every other happy memory that had ever developed over the last nineteen years.

But no, there was the sudden image of a glistening Christmas tree, a mound of brightly wrapped presents, and a room of smiling faces.

Next she saw a celebratory dinner for an excellent school report.

Brilliant blue eyes scrunched up as the memories were forced even more violently into the recesses of a grieving mind. A hand on her shoulder caused her eyes to fly open.

Grace Maitland turned and looked into the face of Mrs Vaughn, the lady who had lived next door to her parents for the last twenty years. She was gazing concernedly at Grace, but quite apart from making her feel better Grace found it annoyed her. She didn't want anyone's pity right now. She didn't want to feel the gaping chasm that was once her heart, didn't want to acknowledge that she would never see her parents again…

"Do you want a ride home, dear?" Mrs Vaughn asked gently.

With surprise, Grace realised the service for her parents was over. The crowd that had been standing with her had dispersed and she was one of the few left next to the two trenches that would be the permanent resting places for her sweet, warm mother, her strong, funny father.

Grace shook her head, a few tendrils of golden hair escaping from the knot at the back of her neck. Her delicate frame shivered, despite the summer sun beaming down from the sapphire sky above. Seeing Mrs Vaughn's expression grow even more worried, Grace finally spoke.

"Thank you Mrs Vaughn, that's very kind of you, but I think I'll stay here a little longer. I'll be fine, honestly"

Grace even managed to add a smile to the end of her sentence, though she had no idea how she had found the strength to do it. With a final glance, Mrs Vaughn nodded and walked away.

She got through the next few minutes with the occasional muttered thank you and hug and then, finally, she was alone. Well, _almost_ alone.

The men filling in the graves were looking nervously at her as she stood there, like a guard over the hardwood coffins that enclosed her entire family. Both her parents had no siblings, just as she had none, and her grandparents had passed away several years before. Those two cold, impersonal boxes lying in the open wounds of holes in the dirt were all she had left and now even _they_ were gone.

Every shovelful of dirt that hit the wood sounded like gunshots to her, every mild breeze froze her to the bone, but she didn't want to leave. To leave would mean she truly was all alone in this world.

But all too soon her view of the coffins was obscured by the mounting dirt and one of the men said quietly "They'll be shutting the gates soon, Miss. You should run along home."

Taking a breath so deep it felt as if it would break her ribcage, Grace finally turned and walked away from the darkening graveyard.

_It was never supposed to be like this…_

As Grace walked along the street towards her tiny bed-sit she couldn't help but let those thoughts of what could have been come rushing to the fore. Though she had never yet been in a serious relationship she had still dreamed of her parents attending her wedding, of them holding her newborn children, of simply _being there_.

She felt guilt at leaving home when she was eighteen. She had been so eager to prove her independence and was so proud of her late shift at the local tavern, even of her tiny one room bed-sit above her workplace. She came home every night stinking like stale beer and cigarette smoke, she endured the leers of drunken men but she was still proud.

Now she wished the last year had been spent telling them how much they meant to her.

It was almost completely dark when she finally reached the tavern where she worked. All she wanted to do was climb the filthy stairs to her room, her sanctuary, and go to sleep.

Forcing one foot in front of the other she made it to the door and was putting the key in when a depressingly familiar voice called out to her.

"Hey, Gracie!"

Grace closed her eyes briefly before turning to face Sean Farris, son of the great oaf that owned this gloomy building. Sean towered over her by almost a foot, was heavyset and had greasy dark hair, with an even greasier smile. The way he often looked at her made her feel very uncomfortable, but thankfully all he ever did was look.

"Hello Sean. What can I do for you?"

"Pam quit. We need you downstairs tonight."

It didn't surprise her that Pam had finally left. Sean's _playfulness_ had recently been getting a little too familiar for the buxom redhead and she had confided in Grace her fears. Pam had a little boy at home and didn't need the aggravation.

_Good for you, Pam. Wish I could have gone with you!_

"Tonight? But…the funeral was today…" her voice trailed off as she saw the sneer on his arrogant face.

"Life goes on sweetheart, unless you want to follow your friend."

As tempting as that sounded, Grace couldn't afford to lose her job and Sean knew it. Her parents hadn't been rich. They also hadn't been that old when the car accident claimed them both, so they had never gotten around to making a will. The meagre amount they did own was being sold to pay for their debts.

"I'll be down in 10 minutes", Grace conceded and turned again to enter her room. A firm hand stopped her.

"If you need a shoulder to cry on sugar, you know where to find me."

He gave a sordid wink and trudged off down the hallway.

Finally Grace was in the questionable security of her room. She gazed around at her neatly made bed, her bookshelf crammed with books and photos of her family, her threadbare but comfortable sofa, her scrubbed little table and two chairs she ate her meals at. There wasn't much else in the room apart from a tiny kitchenette, which had barely enough room in it to actually cook. Grace sighed, shrugging off her black lightweight jacket and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs.

She kicked off her shoes and went into the poky bathroom. She looked up as she unfurled her hair and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her golden hair tumbled about her delicate shoulders, reaching all the way to her tiny waist. Her skin was flawless and creamy, her eyes were the clear blue of an aquamarine gem, and her lips were full and pink.

But with those wide blue eyes and golden waves Grace thought she looked like a child, not a woman of almost twenty. It made her look innocent, vulnerable.

She stepped out of the black dress she had been wearing and doused herself under the shower, quickly reviving her tired body before she had to face what she called 'hell night'.

It must have been at least three in the morning when Sean finally said she could go and Grace couldn't get away quickly enough. It was a Friday night and the tavern was more crowded than usual. A large group from interstate had shown up just after midnight and the looks several of them had been giving her had made her extremely nervous. They were all men, all big, and all drunk. Not a good combination.

Grateful for the first time that her room was so close to work, Grace climbed the stairs once more and walked down the dark and silent hallway.

She was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open and her slender fingers fumbled in her bag as she tried to retrieve her keys.

"Damn."

The keys fell to the floor and the hallway was so dark it was hard to see. The light that was outside her door had been broken for months. Sean's father hadn't bothered to fix it.

"Looking for these, love?"

A raspy voice spoke from right behind her and she heard the jingle of her keys. Her heart beating wildly, she took a calming breath before replying.

"Thank you. May I have them back please?"

"Sure, honey, sure, just as soon as you've made us a nice little payment."

There were several laughs in the darkness, and she gasped as a rough hand slid across her cheek in a grotesque parody of gentleness.

"_Please_ give me my keys." Grace hated the tremble in her voice. She had always considered herself a brave person, with an overabundance of pride and here it was crumbling away because of a group of drunks.

_Drunks!_

Banking on them being a lot more uncoordinated than she was, Grace made a grab for the keys. She managed to knock them to the ground again, which was no help to her in the darkness.

The man who had held them made a grab for her as she ducked down, frantically trying to find the keys. The other men were closing in now, and the first man's hand found her hair and pulled her cruelly to her feet.

"Looks like this one has some spirit, boys. Let's take it out of her!"

On pure instinct, Grace kicked out and was pleased when it connected with hard flesh. The wounded man let go of her and Grace dashed along the hallway.

_Damn the keys, I'm getting out of here!_

Once again Grace cursed her lazy boss. Just one fixed light would have improved her situation. Instead she was running down a dark hallway, occasionally bumping painfully into a wall, hearing the men thundering along behind her.

Grace stumbled down the stairs, hearing the men gaining on her. She pushed open the side door that led to the alley outside and turned swiftly, heading for the main street. The alley was not much brighter than the hallway had been but the street beyond was lit brightly. Surely there would be someone out there. This was the city that never slept after all!

The thundering steps were much closer now. She could almost smell the alcohol emanating from them. She was running as fast as she could but her side was cramping and her legs were starting to ache. Only a short distance from the main street a strong arm grabbed her around the waist and a filthy hand clapped over her mouth.

The man gave a triumphant grin and dragged her backwards, deeper into the shadows.

Then he threw her backwards into the arms of another reeking man who pulled her back so tight against his chest that Grace could barely breathe. Another hand was clamped over her mouth. All she could do was watch the first man advance towards her.

"Now, now sweetheart, I'm disappointed." He said, again brushing her cheek with his hand. "I was hoping we could be friends! I was going to be _real_ nice to you."

His hand made its way behind her head and once more gripped a fistful of her hair so hard it brought tears to her eyes. The watching men, three or four of them, laughed appreciatively. The ringleader jerked her head forwards and lowered his slobbering mouth to hers, his remaining hand crushing one of her breasts.

Grace closed her eyes. This was a nightmare! If she just stayed still, if she just let them get it over with then perhaps she wouldn't be killed.

"Now tell me," a completely unfamiliar voice spoke up out of the darkness, "Is that any way to treat a lady?"

Grace's eyes flew open. Had she really heard someone out there or was she just so terrified she was imagining things?

The men who were watching now looked nervously into the dark shadows, trying to find who had spoken. The ringleader pulled his mouth back, but kept his hand in a bruising grip on her breast.

"Whoever he is, sort him out" He growled before resuming his attack on Grace's delicate flesh.

A deep sigh came from the darkness this time, but the next words were said in a singsong tone.

"I _did_ just tell you that's not how you treat a lady. You're not listening!"

The four other men rushed towards the voice but came out empty handed. They stumbled back, confused, to their boss.

"Let her go."

This was spoken so close to her that Grace jumped. How did he get so close so quickly? The man fondling her finally let go and peered into the shadowed area just behind and to the right of Grace. The man holding her from behind relaxed his grip, just a little.

"Only a coward would hide, Mr. Mystery." He joked with false bravado. "And this aint no lady"

"And how brave is it to bring along five friends to attack a girl?" The mystery person chided. "She doesn't look particularly dangerous to me."

Grace blushed at the comment. Whoever he was, he was right. She was stupid to get herself in this situation.

_Well, let's show him how stupid I can be!_

Grace stomped down hard on the foot of the man behind her and ran again. This time one of the men grabbed her around one knee, causing her to crash to the ground. Her head hit the concrete, as did one elbow. Dazed she heard the mystery voice again, and it did _not_ sound happy.

"You were warned."

The sudden sounds of a fight filled the alleyway.

_My god, he's going to take on all six alone?_

There was a hard thump on the ground next to her and she saw one of the men crumpled, unconscious.

Two more dull thumps, the unmistakeable sounds of bodies hitting hard ground and interspersed between the thumps a faint rattling, like chains.

_Well, well. Mr Mystery came prepared!_

Grace regained enough of her senses to stand, careful to keep herself plastered against the wall so nothing would hit her. She edged her way closer to the battle, her only thought to get to the lit street beyond.

Shadowy figures could now be discerned in the alleyway, one dark shape surrounded by another three. As she watched the mystery man fight she couldn't help but admire his fluid movements. It was almost like watching a dance. A sidestep, a pirouette, ducking and weaving, and all the time he had some sort of weapon in each hand, constantly twirling them to keep his attackers at bay.

She was a lot closer now. She could almost make out the features of the three thugs. One had reddish tangled hair, one had dark short cropped hair….the third had just been sent flying into the opposite wall.

The Mystery man stopped for a moment, his voice filled with amusement.

"Ready to give up?" He teased.

The two remaining men looked at each other then drew long knives from their boots. Grace gasped. How could the mystery man beat two vicious looking knives with a chain and some wood?

"Your choice!" Came the amused voice again and Grace was sure if she could see his face he would be smiling.

The other two advanced on him, deciding speed would defeat him. Instead each man went flying in different directions, their knives clattering to the ground.

Silence fell in the dark alley and Grace peered at her rescuer.

A long black coat covered him from neck to foot and he wore a black hat, pulled down low over his face.

_Well, that doesn't help me!_

"Are you ok?" The voice was deep, rich, and melodious, with just a tinge of boyishness.

Grace checked herself over mentally and then nodded, wincing slightly at the sudden movement of her head.

"Yes….thank you." It didn't seem to be enough somehow, but she could sense he was surprised but pleased by those simple words.

"Do you live nearby?"

"Not far."

"Good, then I suggest you get yourself home quickly." He turned and started walking away.

Shocked by the sudden brush off, Grace began to follow but faltered when she heard a faint rustling. She turned and saw one of the men, the ringleader, getting to his feet, one of the discarded knives now firmly in his hand. Grace tensed, about to scream as he neared her, but he walked right past. It suddenly dawned on her what he was about to do, so Grace did the only thing she could think of. She put out one foot and tripped the man to the ground. The knife slid across the concrete, coming to rest at the feet of her rescuer who had turned at the very first sound and watched her brash move.

"Well, looks like you haven't learnt your lesson" he said darkly, crouching down and binding the man with a slender rope. "I think you need to rest up here and think about what you've done"

And for good measure he punched the man in the jaw, knocking him unconscious.

"Guess it's my turn to thank _you_" Mr Mystery said with laughter in his voice.

Grace gave a nervous smile.

"Guess we're even then." She answered, trying to be playful but too tired to really pull it off. "So, do you always lurk in dark alleyways rescuing damsels in distress Mr…?"

The mystery man cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable about answering her.

"It's ok," Grace spoke up quickly. "I don't need to know who you are. The fact that you saved me is more than enough. I wish there were more men like you in this city."

She thought she heard a rather sarcastic sound erupt from him, but it was over so quickly she was sure she had imagined it.

"Well…"She shifted nervously for the man was just standing there, staring. "I…I should get home now. Thank you again." She stepped forward to shake his hand but he took a step backwards, stopping only when she was bathed in the light coming from the street behind them.

"You're hurt."

Grace lifted a hand to her head and it came away red.

"I'll be ok. It's a lot less than would have happened if you hadn't come along when you did."

"Get someone to patch you up, ok?" Again he started to turn away.

"I…I don't have anyone."

She didn't mean to cry, didn't want to, but she found all the events of the past few days crashing down upon her like a violent storm and she was drowning in sorrow.

She knew she looked weak, knew her rescuer would be so disgusted he would be gone in an instant, but Grace suddenly felt two powerful arms wrap around her and hold her. It was the first act of compassion she had felt in a long time, and apart from making her feel better it caused a grief stricken sob to erupt from her small frame. She felt the arms tighten around her, felt a head gently rest on top of her own and her own arms wrapped around him, clinging to his hard form, drawing strength from it.

Between her sobs she poured out her grief, knowing she would never see him again. She told of her awful job, the sleazy Sean, and the loss of her parents. The stranger simply held her quietly, never interrupting.

After what felt like an eternity, embarrassed beyond all belief, Grace pulled away. Immediately the mystery man slipped into shadow, before she could see him clearly.

A hand went into his pocket and he withdrew a small card. He handed it to her.

"Go here. She'll help you out. Tell her Mike sent you."

No sooner was the card put in her hand than he was gone, blending into the darkness like a ghost.

Grace looked down at the card and read it.

_Second Time Around _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _

Michelangelo repeated this many times over as he trudged along the familiar path back to his home. The walls around him were coated with slime; he was walking in several inches of liquid and the smell emanating from the air was less than pleasant but he was barely aware of any of it.

_Man, I'm going to be in so much trouble   
_

Mike shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. What had possessed him to stay out that late and take on six men on his own? Oh yeah, he was going to get an earful when he returned. He rotated his left shoulder, testing to see if it still hurt. It did.

_Great, now I'm going to get even more hell   
_

_But…do I regret it   
_

It had started out as simple stress relief. They had all been cooped up for several weeks now with not much to do. As a result tempers had been short, heated words were said. Master Splinter had recommended they all find some way to alleviate the stress.   
Donatello had decided to finish all those odd jobs around the lair that had been put off for too long. Leonardo was immersed in several of Master Splinter's old books he had wanted to read for several years. Raphael…well, in typical Raph fashion had locked himself in the dojo, presumably trying to destroy every piece of equipment in there, if the noise emanating from the room had been any indicator.

Michelangelo, with Don and Leo busy and Raph demolishing the dojo, didn't have many choices left to him. He had outgrown comics years ago, or so he told his brothers. At twenty years of age he didn't want them to have any more reason to tease him than they already did. So he had announced he was going to take a walk.

_"Just don't go getting into trouble" Leo called from behind his book   
"Why do you always assume I'm going to get into trouble? Isn't that Raph's department?   
"Just…be careful.   
_

He had _tried_ to keep out of trouble, really he had. In fact he was on his way home when he had heard the unmistakeable sounds of a struggle. Even then he had been determined to just walk past and ignore it. At this time of night it was usually some kind of gang, and he didn't need to get caught up in that.

What he didn't expect to see was six large men trying to assault a young girl!

At that moment he didn't care about Leo's warning, didn't care to think of what Master Splinter would say because he knew what the honourable thing was to do. If he didn't step up…well, he didn't even_ want_ to think of what would be left of that poor girl.

_I did my duty, that's all! But it helped that she was lovely to look at...   
_

Mike stopped that train of thought immediately. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a beautiful woman before! They were often walking along the streets, passing the shadows where he and his brothers concealed themselves. They had seen magazines with the more…interesting…pictures enclosed. And of course April wasn't exactly hard to look at either.

_April! _

Had he done the right thing, giving that girl April's details? Michelangelo knew he was seen as the more blasé of the brothers, but when the tears had glistened in those fathomless eyes…who could blame him for wanting to help? He could still smell the soft fragrance of roses. It clung to his coat like a ghost, bringing back the vivid memory of silky, golden hair and a slight figure huddled against him.

_Ah, forget it Mike. It's just another memory to add to the collection. _

He had made it to the door of his home now. Taking a fortifying breath he pushed it open.

Everything was quiet, the lair was dark but he could sense he was not the only one in the room, and that person was awake, staring at him in the darkness.

"You're up early, Leo" Mike said brightly, pulling off his hat and tossing it on the couch next to his brother, who was sitting quite still, a sombre look on his face.

"You were out late."

Michelangelo shrugged nonchalantly, walking closer to flip on the lamp. The room was filled with warm light, but the warmth didn't reach Leo's eyes.

"We were worried. I was just about to go and look for you."

Slowly, Mike pulled off his coat, taking one more breath of the sweet smell before it was discarded onto the couch as well.

"Yeah, that's right Leo,' he answered with a scowl, 'come and rescue Mike because he can't possibly look after himself"

"That's not what I meant."

"Isn't it?" Mike didn't know why he was angry. Perhaps it was the adrenalin still coursing through his veins. He began to pace, resolving to go to the dojo as soon as possible to work out the extra tension.

"No, it's not." Leo stood and came closer to his brother, noting the uncharacteristic agitation. "I was just…I care, that's all."

As Mike strode past, Leo put a hand on his shoulder to stop him and couldn't help but see the wince on Michelangelo's face.

He pulled back, arms crossed and gaze narrowed.

"Ok, what happened?"

With another sigh, Michelangelo dropped onto the couch, distracted momentarily as that sweet scent rose to meet him once again. Focusing his attention back on Leo he gave a shrug.

"I just…helped someone, that's all."

Leo raised a brow. "What _kind_ of help?"

"I just did what you or any of us would do, that's all."

At Leo's gaze, Michelangelo decided to tell him all that had transpired. Well, _almost _all of it. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to share about holding the girl while she cried, but it had touched him. It was only a few moments, but in those moments she had trusted him with her soul. That moment was theirs alone.

"The girl didn't have anyone to help her out so…" Mike mumbled the rest of the words, looking down at the threadbare rug on the floor.

"You did what?"

Mike sighed. "I gave her April's card." Seeing Leo's expression he added quickly "I doubt she'll go to her. It was just…a spur of the moment thing. She probably threw it out straight away."

Leo was disappointed in him, he could tell, but he kept a defiant face until Leo stood, nodding.

"It's ok, Mike. Just…just go to bed."

Michelangelo stood, stretching his tired body, testing his shoulder once more. He leaned to grab his coat and hat then went to his room. As his head touched the pillow he pulled the coat just a few inches closer, his eyes closing as the sweet scent of roses wafted around him.

_Why am I here? _

Grace sat in the doorway of the building at the address of the card, watching as the sunlight slowly began to hit the windows in the skyscrapers in the distance. Soon the dark street would be brighter and then, maybe, she would knock on that door.

_This could be a cruel joke, a set up… _

She pushed those thoughts away. She was just unnerved by the events of a few hours ago. She could still feel those strong arms. They had been powerful and gentle at the same time. She had felt so safe…

The streetlights went out one by one and soon she could hear movement coming from behind the door. Standing, she clutched the card in her small hand, closed her eyes briefly and knocked.   
The door was opened by a woman in her late twenties with a shock of red hair. The woman smiled politely.

"Can I help you?"

"Are…are you April O'Neil?"

"That's me!" she answered brightly." And you are…?"

Grace blushed.

"You don't know me…I was…you were recommended to me." She showed the card feebly.

April frowned, obviously confused, but then she noticed the drying blood in Grace's hair.

"You've been hurt! Please, come in!"

April moved aside, gesturing for Grace to enter, which she did cautiously. She gazed around at all the odds and ends piled around the dimly lit room. Grace was itching to explore the fascinating objects but April was looking at her with concern.

"Come on upstairs. I'll see what I can do to fix you up."

Grace followed the slender woman up a flight of stairs.

"So, who gave you my card?" April asked curiously as she led the way towards her apartment.

"Mike?"

Grace didn't miss how April's steps faltered, but the redhead regained her poise quickly and opened the door to her home, seating Grace in a chair at the kitchen table.

"So…' April started as she laid a bowl of warm water, a cloth and some ointment on the table in front of her, 'how do you know Mike?"

Grace winced as April used the cloth to gently wash away the blood.

"He saved me. A few hours ago"

"Saved you? …just him?" April was trying to look casual as she cleaned the wound but Grace could see she was surprised. She nodded in response and was relieved that her head was hurting less now.

"Is…is that unusual?" She asked, wanting to know more about her mysterious rescuer.

"Oh, no, he…" April dried the wound and applied a soft dressing, "he often helps people. It's just what he does." She shrugged, clearing away the bowl and sitting down opposite Grace.

Grace had to admit to herself that she was disappointed she wasn't unique. Certainly in the last few hours she had fantasised there was something about her that had made him help her, but in reality he was just doing his job.

"So…" April looked curiously at her, "did you…_see_ him?"

Grace frowned at the slightly unusual question but shook her head.

"No, it was dark and he was dressed in black." A sudden yawn took over her body and she blushed as she tried to hide it. "I should probably go home."

April shook her head.

"No, you look like you're about to fall asleep. Stay here; just long enough to get your energy back. Besides, I want to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't have a concussion or anything."

"You're very kind."

April smiled. "It's really no problem. Mike sent you to me to look after, and look after you I will. But it would help if I had a name to call you."

Grace returned the smile, feeling lucky to have met such kind people. She hadn't realised any existed outside of her happy home.

"It's Grace."

"Ok, Grace, off to bed with you." April grinned and showed her to a spare room with an extra soft bed that Grace sank onto and fell asleep in promptly.

Michelangelo wiped a bead of sweat from his brow then resumed his attack on Raphael. They had been sparring for at least an hour now, but Mike was not showing any signs of tiredness He slammed yet another fist towards Raph, who grabbed it before it could do any damage. Instead of letting go, though, he held it tight, watching as Mike fought to be released.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mike growled, tugging at his hand.

Raph threw Mike's hand away carelessly.

"What's the problem, little brother?"

"I'm not the one with the problem, you are!"

Michelangelo strode to the bench that lined one wall of the dojo, sinking onto it and wiping down his face with one of the towels stacked there. He was still so tense, so…worried.

"So,' Raphael said, sitting down next to his brother and towelling down his own sweating body, 'want to talk about it?"

Mike noted the more gentle tone and felt the tension start to ease. Raphael knew what it was like to be frustrated, angry. He might have some advice on how Mike could get rid of this feeling. Once again he retold his story of what had happened in the early hours of the morning, and once again he left out certain parts.

Raphael leaned back, surveying his brother carefully. His shoulders were slumped; his eyes were creased with worry. There was something he wasn't sharing.

"If you want answers, why not ask April?" Raph stated, matter-of-factly. "She's the only one who can tell you if the girl dropped by or not…not that I'm sure _why_ you need to know."

As Mike made his way back along the tunnels, he wasn't sure why it was so important either. He tried to assure himself that he was doing it to check that _April_ was alright, that he just wanted to apologise for nominating her to help a complete stranger. It had nothing, _nothing_, at all to do with the girl. He reached April's and climbed, unnoticed, up the fire escape and into her kitchen window.

Casey looked up from his lunch.

"Hey Mike. How's things?"

"Hi Casey" Mike glanced around quickly, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. With surprise he noted he was a little disappointed.

_It's for the best. _

Mike eased his lean frame into a chair opposite Casey and put earlier events out of his mind.

"Want a drink?" Casey offered, going to the fridge.

"Why not. Where's April?"

"Downstairs. She'll be up in a minute." Casey placed a bottle of cola in front of Mike and sat with one of his own. He surveyed Mike for a few moments, watching as his friend took a few half-hearted sips of his drink then sat it back down on the scrubbed wooden surface.

"You ok?"

Mike smiled at his friend. He really had let an insignificant moment get to him. It was time to get over it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired I guess." He stifled a yawn, grinning wryly at the silent confirmation of his statement.

Casey nodded, leaning back casually in his chair.

"Mm, I guess the events of this morning _would_ be tiring." He glanced at his friend to see if there was any reaction. If there was, Mike was doing a great job of hiding it. Then again, Mike was a trained ninja. He could probably hide a broken neck!

"Heard about that, huh?" Mike asked casually, stretching his legs out in front of him, watching to see if he was in trouble at all. So the girl _had_ been here.

Casey opened his mouth to respond but just then April returned, smiling when she saw Mike.

"Hi there!" April greeted him in her usual effervescent style, planting a friendly kiss on the top of his head before reaching Casey and snaking her slender arms around his neck.

"Hey babe,' Casey greeted her, 'closed up already?"

"Just for today, I have other things to do." April looked significantly at Mike, who crumpled under her gaze.

"I'm sorry April. I know I shouldn't have given your card to a complete stranger…punish me any way you see fit just…don't tell Sensei.**  
**

April's smile turned into a confused frown.

"Punish you? Why on earth would I do that? You did the right thing."

"Thanks." Michelangelo gave a grateful smile. "So…was she ok?" he posed the question as an afterthought, hoping he didn't sound too concerned.

"She'll be fine…which reminds me, I should wake her and see if she's hungry." April straightened, about to do just that but stopped at the look on Mike's face.

"She's here?"

He hated the sudden thumping of his heart, was it fear or excitement?

_I can't stay. I can't let her see me. I'll scare her   
But Casey and April aren't scared   
How will I feel if she screams…   
_

April nodded. Mike gulped.

"I…I have to go"

April and Casey were left staring at an empty chair, the curtain at the window still swaying from the breeze left behind by their friend's sudden departure, but not before they had gazed knowingly at each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Grace thanked April and Casey profusely, promising to visit again soon. She smiled as she walked in the warm sunshine, her life feeling just a little brighter than the day before. April O'Neil and Casey Jones were people she could see herself being friends with. They were caring, funny and smart.

_Too bad there aren't more like them._

Grace scolded herself. Of course there were more people like them; she just hadn't been lucky enough yet to meet them

She stopped over to see Pat on her way home, glad to see the worry lines greatly diminished.

Pat was only a few years older than her, with a riot of red curls and a four-year-old son, Joshua, with the same bright mop of hair. She had never been really close, but she was the only person Grace had ever had around to talk to, so she had taken on a big sister type role in her life. They talked briefly over a cup of tea and then Grace continued her walk home, blushing happily when Joshua gave her a hug goodbye.

Grace adored children. Being an only child was lonely and gave her a lot of time to daydream about what her life might become. Most of her dreams revolved around the typical girly fantasy: a tall, dark and handsome man, a cute little cottage with a white picket fence, and many adorable children running around happily.

_Yes, that's what I'll have one day._

She was almost home, right near the same alley she had been attacked, when she felt slightly uneasy. Grace couldn't quite put her finger on what it was exactly, but she couldn't help but quicken her pace.

_I'm being watched!_

The unwelcome realization hit her with a force that almost knocked the air out of her. Her breath caught in her throat, her pace more like a slow run now. The alleyway felt far longer than she remembered, each step closer to the side door was like a mile.

Finally, though, she made it.

Feeling slightly silly for her panic she took deep even breaths until she had calmed down, leaning against the wall for support. She had just been spooked, that was all. It was only natural that she would feel that way after being attacked.

Grace rummaged in her bag for her keys, remembering too late that they had been dropped in those early hours.

With a groan, Grace sat on the floor outside her room, dreading having to ask Sean for assistance. As she sat though, she noticed a small envelope tucked under her door.

Pulling it out curiously, Grace was astounded to find her key enclosed, and a tiny note simply stating _'From a friend'._

Life was back to its usual monotony. Michelangelo glanced up from his breakfast to study his family.

Leo was sitting ramrod straight in his chair as usual, his bowl, cup, and spoon neatly arranged in front of him. He was reading the day's paper; breakfast apparently forgotten.

Don's breakfast was competing for space on the table with the open book lying beside it; a spoonful of cereal had stopped halfway towards his mouth and was in danger of falling onto the pages below.

Raphael had pushed aside his breakfast and speared an apple with a sai. He was gazing at his captive intently, obviously debating whether or not to eat it.

Master Splinter was sipping on a hot cup of tea, the hint of a smile playing on his mouth as he watched his sons. When his gaze met Mike's he set his cup down carefully.

"Are you not hungry, my son?"

Michelangelo looked guiltily at his still full bowl and quickly filled his mouth with a huge spoonful. Splinter smiled indulgently.

He had tried, _really tried_, to forget the girl but his dreams were being haunted by her soft voice, he could still feel the ghost of her delicate form in his embrace and, on several heart-stopping occasions, he had detected the sweet scent of roses.

_What's happening to me? _Mike lamented as he spent the morning in the dojo with his brothers, fine tuning his skills. _We've all met girls before; all had our crushes._

But they had never meant anything…never touched that part of him he had thought unreachable. _Can you really fall for someone in one single moment?_

The next moment Mike found himself lying on the dojo floor, Don hovering over him, concerned.

"Gee, sorry Mike! I thought you saw that move coming!" He offered his hand to his brother who took it, lifting himself back up on his feet, embarrassed at his inattention.

"It's ok," he mumbled, trying to ignore Leo and Splinter's looks of worry and Raph's not so quiet sniggering.

"Hi guys!" April's buoyant voice called from the next room. Mike was grateful for the distraction, as Leo had looked as though he was about to question him.

"April!" Mike greeted her, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but no one seemed to notice.

April was carrying several bags, which she set down on a nearby table.

"I come bearing gifts. Been doing the annual shop clear out and thought you guys might like these things."

"Thanks April!" Donatello answered, grabbing the bag with his name written on it and rummaging for goodies.

"That is very generous of you." Splinter smiled, as April handed a bag to him.

"Ah, don't mention it. It was just stuff sitting around gathering dust. I'm sure it will be put to better use here."

April handed a bag to Mike. "I think you'll particularly like your present," she said with a significant wink.

Full of apprehension, Michelangelo slowly withdrew a small wooden box, intricately carved and decorated with red roses. It was a lovely piece, but Mike wasn't sure why April thought it would be so important. His confusion must have shown on his face because April laughed.

"Open it, you nut!"

April seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. With a wry smile Mike opened the box and was struck with a gentle rose scent, the exact one that had been haunting him for the last week. A small perfume bottle was nestled on a bed of red silk.

Mike looked up, his face so full of puzzlement that April burst out laughing.

"Men!" she exclaimed, taking Mike by the hand and settling him on the couch. "Did you even read what it's called?"

More confused than ever, Mike looked at the perfume label, _Amazing Grace_.

"And…?"

April blinked. Obviously this was supposed to mean something to him, but other than the fact it smelled like the girl he rescued he couldn't find the connection.

"Amazing _Grace_," April emphasized, "Grace….as in…"

An inkling of a theory had started in Mike's brain.

"Her name was Grace?"

"Geez, I knew turtles were supposed to be slow but this is ridiculous! Oh," April had suddenly blushed, "unless you didn't know her name?"

Michelangelo smiled.

"Thanks April. No really, I mean it," he emphasized when Aprils smile faltered.

She brightened right away.

"Enjoy!" April bounded away to chat about the other treasures she had brought.

Mike took another deep breath of the soft fragrance then closed the box. He still wasn't sure why April thought it would mean anything to him, but he appreciated the thought that had gone into it, and now the girl had a name. _Grace_.

Mike offered to walk April home later that night, staying for a drink and a chat with Casey. It was quite late when he finally left.

He wandered down the city street, heading for home, but taking the most indirect route he could. He didn't want to get home too quickly and face all the questions that were inevitable after his gift from April. His brothers were bound to wonder about its significance and he wasn't in the mood to explain.

_There's nothing to explain anyway!_

The night was cold and he was grateful for his thick coat, pushing his hands firmly into the deep pockets to ward off the chill in the air. It was surprisingly peaceful, only a few cars were rambling down the streets and there were few people out walking. It had to be after midnight now but still he wasn't ready to go home just yet. He walked aimlessly for another ten minutes until he suddenly realized where he was.

"Shit, Mike, what's gotten into you!" he cursed himself quietly, recognizing the tavern where Grace worked.

Still, he figured just a glance wouldn't hurt. He _was_ feeling rather thirsty anyway, so it wasn't like he was going in there for no reason…

_Yeah, keep thinking that Mike._

The bar was dimly lit and smoky, which suited him just fine, as it was easier to stay unnoticed. He quickly ordered a beer then found a seat deep in the shadows. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd and it wasn't long until he spotted her. Her pale hair had been pulled back into a messy ponytail with the effect of making her look much younger. She looked so out of place, her slim figure bent and tired.

Michelangelo tried to drag his eyes away but they were intent on following her every move. He watched the sway of her hips, the way she kept brushing loose strands of hair out of her eyes, the way she smiled at each and every patron unwaveringly, even though he could plainly see she was exhausted. The more he watched her, the more he wanted to speak with her again.

_But that would be wrong…and dangerous._

He contented himself with sipping at his drink and simply watching as she worked. He almost moved though, when a drunken young man tried to make a grab at her, but Grace must have had practice as she swerved out of his grasp just in time. The thwarted man looked quite angry about it.

Slowly the tavern patrons' numbers dwindled and Grace took off her apron. Mike took this as his cue to leave.

Once outside, however, he noticed the young man from inside hanging around near the back entrance.

Again he slipped into the shadows, watching. It was possible the man was simply standing, just having a quick rest, but Mike believed that as much as he believed Raphael would learn ballet!

His attention peaked when the door opened to reveal Grace, pulling on a coat, her eyes on the ground and not at the man standing nearby.

"You owe me something." The guy said angrily, grabbing her wrist.

Grace gave a startled gasp, trying to pull out of his grip.

"No she doesn't" Mike spoke up from the shadows, causing the man to jump away from Grace as if burned. The coward didn't even wait around to find out who had spoken. He took off back down the alley towards the bright street beyond.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Mike joked, watching comprehension dawn on Grace's face.

"M…Mike?"

"That's me." The night suddenly seemed inexplicably warmer. Michelangelo smiled.

"It looks like I should thank you again." Grace said softly, pulling her coat closer to her.

"It's ok, really. Does this sort of thing happen often?"

Grace shrugged. "Every now and then, but it's usually nothing more than talk. I guess I've just been unlucky the last week or so."

Grace couldn't explain it, but she felt completely safe now Mike was with her, even though he was still a stranger. There was something about him that just felt…right.

Mike gazed at her in the darkness. She looked so soft, so delicate. He had a sudden urge to touch her face and had to force his hand to stay in his pocket.

"Can I walk you home at least?" he asked quietly. "I want to make sure you get there safely."

Grace nodded.

They walked down to the far end of the alley in companionable silence, Mike in shadow, Grace in the soft moonlight. To Michelangelo it was almost like being in two separate worlds that could never meet in the middle.

_Since when did I become the philosopher_, he mused to himself, glancing sideways at the girl beside him. He was touched that she trusted him.

_But that's because she doesn't know what you _really_ are…_came the unwelcome thought, which he pushed aside quickly.

All too soon they were standing outside Grace's door.

"Well…" Mike started to step back but Grace suddenly realized she didn't want him to go, not quite yet. She reached out a small hand to touch his sleeve. That simple gesture caused Michelangelo to stand incredibly still.

"Would…would you like to come in for a coffee?"

Michelangelo looked in amazement at the hand touching his coat, and then looked up into the lovely face. He wanted nothing more than to extend his time with her.

"Ok."

Grace smiled, unlocked her door and went inside. She was about to turn on the light when Mike's hand quickly covered hers.

"Please, can we leave it off?"

"Sure." Grace watched the shadowy figure make his way with ease to her lounge and sat down. _His eyesight must be amazing_, she mused, feeling her way carefully to the chair nearby.

"So…did you want that coffee?"

"That's ok. I don't really drink the stuff."

They sat in awkward silence for several more minutes until Grace spoke again.

"I want to say thank you again. Not just for tonight, but for last time. If you hadn't come along …"

"But I did."

"So where _did_ you come from, Mr Mystery?"

Mike looked away.

"I don't live too far away from here. I was just in the neighborhood."

"Lucky for me!"

They both laughed. The mood had eased finally and Mike found himself chatting with her freely about his brothers, his father, himself, but keeping out the more _interesting_ facts. Before he knew it the room was starting to lighten. Standing suddenly he said a quick goodbye to Grace.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, afraid I have to."

"Well, will I ever see you again?"

Mike smiled and leaned forward, daring to take some silken strands and run his fingers through them, barely resisting the urge to bury his face in them too. Then, once again, he felt those arms wrap around him. He would regret it later, he knew, but he held her close, resting his head on top of hers, allowing her scent to fill his senses. As they pulled apart he pressed his mouth to her hair and whispered, "You'll see me again, I promise."

He was gone from the room as the first rays of sunshine crept over the horizon. Grace stood in the empty room, wrapped her arms around herself and smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

As Grace served customers the next night, she couldn't help but daydream about Mike; _Michelangelo_, she corrected herself, recalling the unusual but somehow fitting name. As a result she didn't pay her usual attention to her work and managed to break two glasses during the course of her shift. Sean had revelled in yelling at her as she wiped down the tables after they closed, resulting in her leaving work in a very bad mood.

The moon was full tonight, Grace noticed, her mood lifting slightly; also noting it was warmer than the night before. It was just a shame that the stars couldn't be seen properly from the city.

She started on the short walk down the alleyway towards her home, her mood lifting considerably when a familiar figure fell into step beside her.

"Feel up to a walk?" Mike asked. "Thought you might like some fresh air after…" He finished the sentence with a shrug.

"You heard?" Grace flushed at the thought of Mike hearing her being reprimanded.

"Don't worry about it. I can guarantee I've gotten into trouble plenty more times than you."

Grace was sure he was grinning; she didn't need to see his face, she could hear it in his voice.

"A walk would be wonderful," she agreed, linking her arm casually through his.

Mike _was_ grinning, happy to be near Grace again, even happier to have her holding his arm without fear, without judgement.

He was glad he came back to see her again. Just being in her company made him feel calm, content, and warm in a way meditation had never achieved, no matter how hard he'd tried. On a more practical note, he could make sure she was safe from harm.

They strolled through the streets in silence, stopping at a local park and choosing a tree to lean against, each facing a different direction.

The early hours of the morning were as still as they could be for the city; the occasional car swept by, an even rarer shout or bark, but all in all they could have been in their own little world.

Mike leaned back against the tree trunk contentedly, stretching his legs and smiling. A sidelong glance and he could see Grace's form relaxed against the tree as well.

"So what made you decide to get into the rescue business?" Grace asked with a hint of laughter on her voice.

Michelangelo smiled.

"My father, mainly. He taught my brothers and me to defend ourselves from an early age."

"All four of you? He sounds very dedicated."

"He is. Sometimes a little overprotective, but he's fantastic."

"And your mother?"

Michelangelo was silent, pondering how to answer her without confusing her. He must have been silent a little too long though as Grace was speaking again.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"No, it's fine. She…she had nothing to do with bringing us up. We never knew her and I've never thought about it. Don't worry," he said at a slight sympathetic noise from Grace, "I've never felt likeI was missing anything at all."

Grace shifted and Mike watched in fascination as her hand slowly reached for him. Grateful for his shapeless mittens he took her hand in his.

"I must remember to congratulate your father on a job well done." Grace said teasingly.

"Hey, I'm the one who rescued you!" Mike grinned back. Graces hand tightened in his.

"And I will never be able to thank you enough, Michelangelo."

_Gods, she said my full name   
_

For almost an hour they sat hand in hand, chattering about favourite movies and foods, making up silly theories about any people walking past.

Mike was in the middle of one of his best jokes when he heard Grace yawn loudly.

"Not boring you, am I?" Mike said playfully.

Grace mumbled a denial, shifting her whole body until her head rested in his lap, and closed her eyes.

Michelangelo was utterly still, not daring to disturb her, waiting in silence until her breathing was deep and even. Then, his entire body tingling, he pulled off one of his gloves.

Her hair fell silkily through his fingers like a waterfall and he leaned down to breathe deeply of that gentle rose scent.

His skin, rough and calloused from his art, ran tenderly across her starkly contrasting cheeks, so soft and warm.

And in that silent moment he allowed his eyes to roam over her, taking in the gentle swell of her breast, the dip of her tiny waist, the elegant curve of hips.

A ragged breath caught in his throat as something primal stirred deep within him. Gods, he wanted to touch that skin, taste it…

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Mike called, his voice harsher than he intended.

Graces eyes opened lazily and stared straight up at his shadowy face.

"Your eyes," she mumbled, "they're a beautiful blue."

Michelangelo grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to her feet.

"Time to get you home, princess."

-----

The dojo echoed with the sounds of loud thuds as Michelangelo kicked and punched furiously at the large kick bag, followed closely by a frustrated grunt. With each kick he willed himself to erase Grace from his mind, told himself to focus on his training, but all he was doing was becoming more aware of the ache deep in his body, the tingle that had been getting steadily stronger since he had said goodbye. That tender flesh sprang to mind once more, the womanly curves that begged him to touch them, those soft pink lips that he needed to taste…

With a particularly loud, frustrated groan he punched the bag, finally noting the stinging of his knuckles. Mike drew his attention to his hands, anything to keep those dangerous thoughts at bay.

"You're uncharacteristically devoted to your art this morning" Donatello greeted him, taking up position at a bag nearby and stretching his arm muscles before starting his practice session.

"You know me, Don. Don't like being bored." Mike gave a false chuckle then sat on one of the benches, studying his bruised knuckles. He was suddenly very tired, though still tense.

_Maybe a cold shower will help… _

"Are you ok, Mikey?"

Michelangelo looked up at his brother's concerned face and sighed. He wasn't sure why he was keeping this from his family anymore. And with him so dangerously close to unfamiliar territory, maybe they could impart some helpful advice.

"Got a few minutes?" Mike asked softly.

Donatello nodded, walking over to the bench and sitting quietly next to his youngest brother. He was silent, knowing after years of experience that Mike would tell whatever it was in his own time.

"You know all those pictures we used to look at, and all those times we went out together just to see what…girls are like?" Mike was flushing, despite himself.

"I do…"

"Remember how we used to talk about whether or not we would ever…y'know." His face was feeling very hot now and he squirmed, suddenly eager to run away from the whole situation.

Don's brow was furrowed in thought for a moment until a sudden realisation of what Michelangelo was trying to say dawned on him.

"Mike! Have you…I mean _did_ you…I mean _are_ you…"

"Real eloquent, Donnie, and no I haven't."

"So who is she?" Raph teased, entering the room with a maddeningly amused look on his face. "Why all the mystery?"

"What mystery?"

"Come on, Mike." Raphael stepped forward now, smiling. "You've barely been home in the last few days, kept certain…things from us, and you went back to April's to check up on the girl."

"I was just concerned, that's all."

"So you said before."

Michelangelo could tell Raphael didn't believe him. To be honest he wasn't sure he believed himself! Why _had_ he gone back?

He lowered his eyes, felt his jaw clench, his stomach tighten. Clearing his throat he finally looked back up.

"You've known girls. All of you have, as far as I know…can it ever work?"

Raphael sighed.

"The girls I've known…they were just in it for the adventure, the excitement. Heck, sometimes I think they were trying to live more dangerously than I do! But Mike…we all knew years ago that things would have to be different for us. There's certain…"

"Boundaries," Donatello contributed. "I mean, we need to be careful about who knows about us; the less the better really."

"So, basically, you're saying there's no way any of us can have a real relationship. No chance of anyone else from the outside accepting us." Michelangelo stood up and began pacing agitatedly. "Are April and Casey the only humans we can trust?"

"Well, of course it would be very narrow-minded of me to say there were no other good people out there…but Mike, we have to be very cautious!"

Mike snorted. "Raph just said he's known girls. Was that careful?"

"The girls I knew are too scared to ever tell a soul…and hey, who'd believe them?"

"They liked you at the time though."

"They were psychos." Raphael supported his statement with a snort of disgust. "Only interested in _different_ relationships."

"They were out of your species too, Raph. What does that make you?" Donatello asked innocently, a hint of a smile playing on his face.

Michelangelo tuned out the ensuing debate, instead retiring to the bathroom for that long awaited shower. He was no longer in need of it cold, so turned it on hard and hot. His body protested against the stinging heat but he groaned in relief, revelling in the massaging effect of the water beating down on him. What did Raph know anyway? He had gone looking for women with a taste for the dark and unusual, never looking for a real relationship. Mike wasn't sure what he wanted for himself, but he did know that whatever it was, whatever he got would be open and honest.

_Completely _honest.

-----

Grace awoke well after midday, feeling refreshed. She could barely remember walking home, so tired she had been. It was more like a dream, _a very pleasant dream_ she smiled, stretching languidly under her covers and recalling Mikes' strong arms guiding her home.

Everything about Michelangelo seemed so strong, so secure. She could easily imagine whiling a day away wrapped in those arms…

_What are you dreaming about Grace, you barely know him! _

_But I know enough to know he's already important to me.   
_

With a sigh Grace got out of bed and headed for the shower, thankful she was not working tonight, as she needed a day of rest and relaxation. Would Mike look for her when he found she wasn't at work? Would he possibly come to her room?

Grace felt a flutter of excitement at the thought, but chided herself for such wild, improbable dreams.

Trying to be sensible didn't stop her from cleaning her home from top to bottom that day, as well as a quick trip to the store to stock her fridge just in case she had any _unexpected_ visitors.

As night descended, Grace felt that tiny seed of excitement start to grow in the pit of her belly once more. She dressed carefully, her freshly washed hair left loose about her shoulders, a simple, pale blue dress covering her body. She turned the television on to distract herself, finally settling in for a classic comedy marathon.

She was dozing on the couch when she heard the knock at her door.

"Who is it?" she called, glancing at her clock, which showed it was a little after eleven.

"It's Mike."

Grace leapt from the couch, smoothing her hair with her hands and dutifully turning off the light for him before opening the door.

The large, shapeless figure made his way smoothly into the room, Grace marvelling at his catlike, fluid motions.

"I hope you don't mind me coming over. I…looked for you at your work." Mike was pacing the room. Grace had the feeling he was nervous about her reaction.

"No, not at all. I hoped…I mean…" Grace broke off, blushing.

Mike stopped his pacing, standing near the window, and peering out at the street below. Slowly he turned to face her again.

Grace could barely see anything in the darkness, but she wasn't afraid. She knew there was nowhere safer in the world.

"I have to show you something." Mike's voice was barely a whisper as he stepped closer to her. "I want you to see who I really am…but I'm afraid of scaring you."

"Scaring me?" Grace couldn't help the way her heart began pounding in her chest, the quickening of her breath, not entirely sure if it was from his nearness or his announcement. He seemed so genuinely concerned that Grace raised a hand to his arm as comfort. His hand rose to join hers briefly then he stepped away.

"I'm different, Grace. Not everyone can accept how different I am. Just remember…I'm still the same person. Please, turn on the light."

A little frightened despite herself, Grace walked back to the light switch. Her back was to Michelangelo when she flicked it on and she paused there for a moment, staring at the wall, willing herself to be supportive no matter what his difference was.

She heard the rustle of fabric as he shed his coat and then his gentle voice spoke her name.

"Grace?"

Taking a fortifying breath, Grace turned.

Grace had always considered herself an open-minded person. Her mother had volunteered at a shelter and Grace had occasionally lent a hand. Many different types of people had used the facility; gays, transvestites, addicts, prostitutes, victims of abuse, abusers, and people of every nationality…all had been treated equal. Many times she had been shocked, but she had forced herself to work through her fears.

But right then she could not stop herself from backing away until she was pressed against the wall.

Michelangelo had expected this reaction, had been steeling himself for it ever since his decision to show himself to her, but it didn't stop the sudden tightness in his chest, the lump in his throat that made it difficult for him to swallow.

He gazed down at himself, regretting what he was for the first time in his life.

Finding his voice he said "Well, this is me. I…I'm sorry."

He made to grab his coat but Grace took a tentative step forward.

"Please, don't be sorry. I…it's just…just a shock, I guess. H-how…"

"Did I get like this?" Mike took heart at the fact she was talking to him, was looking at him not with revulsion but…curiosity.

_Well, that's understandable. It's not everyday you meet a giant, walking, talking turtle.   
_

They stood facing each other for the next ten minutes while Michelangelo told Grace the familiar story of how he and his family came to be.

When his voice trailed off into silence, Grace was still staring at him, fascinated.

_How amazing is his story_ Grace thought, her initial shock fading completely away as she studied the person standing before her. His skin, though green, was smooth and flawless and she didn't even have to strain to see how strong he really was. He was all bulging biceps and quadriceps, lithe and limber. His smile was small, shy like a child as he watched her studying him in silence. His eyes were so expressive, so kind, and still shining from the same person who had caused her pulse to quicken. The realisation hit her with the force of an express train. It might take some getting used to, but this was still Michelangelo, still the man who had rescued her, who had become a dear friend.

Her eyes wandered to the shell covering his chest and back.

She stepped forward, reaching out tentatively.

"Can…can I touch it?" She asked shyly.

Mike nodded and she gently ran her fingers down his front, feeling the firm surface curiously.

"Can you feel me touching you?"

_Gods yes…   
_

Michelangelo nodded again, his eyes riveted to her small hands as they ran across his plastron, every lesson Don had ever thrown at him about nerve endings, sensitivity of their shells and whatnot forgotten in the moment. He didn't care _how_ he could feel it, only that he _could_. Her hands reached around slowly to caress his carapace, tracing around each scute carefully.

_She has no idea what she's doing to me._

Mikes breath caught in his throat as her fingers brushed against the tender skin just under his shell, highly sensitive from being so protected. Grace jumped back, blushing.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No," his voice sounded so unlike his own, "not at all."

Against his will his body had awoken again, and with Grace so close it took all his strength not to reach for her, not to press that soft body against his.

"I should go."

"But…it's ok. I'd like you to stay. We can talk more or," she gestured to the television, "watch bad movies?"

Mike grinned despite himself. He didn't want to leave, but it could be dangerous to stay.

Graces' cajoling smile was his undoing and he made his way over to the lounge, taking a seat and patting the one next to him.

Grace relaxed as they laughed through the movie, enjoying Mike's easy conversation, his wit, intelligence and boyish charm. It was almost possible to ignore how he looked. Grace blushed at this thought. It shouldn't matter what he looked like, but somehow her brain couldn't quite get around the fact that he was a turtle. _Still_, she thought with a sidelong glance, _his physique is stunning_. Certainly during the movie, and the one after it, Grace found herself admiring his strong, lean legs, found her breath catching when he flexed an arm to reach for a drink. She just couldn't shake the thought that it was wrong for her to be thinking that way, unnatural.

Even after they fondly hugged goodbye in the early hours of the morning, she couldn't shake that feeling and it shamed her almost more than she could bear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"You're in here again?" Leonardo greeted Mike later that morning. Leo's skin still glistened from his morning shower and he was fitting his bandanna over his dark brown eyes as he entered the dojo.

"Just trying to keep up with the rest of you," Mike panted, practising another roundhouse kick. Leo watched with a critical eye.

"Well, baby brother; you're getting a lot better! Whatever you're doing to change your attitude, keep it up!"

"Not a problem there," Mike muttered under his breath, kicking once more at the heavy bag suspended from the ceiling.

"Huh?" Leo called from the weight bench.

"Nothin'" Michelangelo walked over to the training mat and started his cooling down stretches. Why was it that every time he left Grace his body felt so tight, so flushed? He couldn't quell his hunger for her by exercising, no matter how many hours he had tried to fool himself that he could. Leo was staring at him, he could feel it. He could also feel that Leo's gaze was one of immense curiosity but luckily he also knew Leo was too polite to pry, not unless it was something very important.

He appreciated that right now as he had a shrewd feeling Leo would be the most opposed to him revealing who they were to an outsider.

"Hey, guys!" Raph called, entering the room. "Casey just called. We're heading out tonight for a little R and R." He gave a tawdry wink to his brothers. "You know what that means!"

Leonardo rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "Would it include beer and women?"

"What other kind of R and R is there?" Raph grabbed an arm weight and started pumping it up and down, his eyes sending a teasing glance at Michelangelo. "But of course…_some_ of us may have _other_ plans?"

Mike did not want to have this conversation right now, knew Raph was baiting him in front of Leonardo. What could he do?

"I'm in, Raph. Where and when?"

Raphael paused in mild surprise but recovered quickly, resuming his workout.

"Great! Casey is comin' over tonight. He said he found a nice little place near them so we're going to try it out. Leo?"

Rolling his eyes, Leo gave a small nod and returned to his training with a determined look.

Michelangelo grabbed a towel and left the room very quickly. He'd go, alright, but he didn't have to stay long!

-----

"It's kinda grungy and seedy, but it has its charms." Casey called back to them as he walked ahead, hand in hand with April.

Mike trailed behind his chattering brothers, his coat collars pulled up and his hands deep inside his pockets. He was anxious to go see Grace again, but he had a few hours to fill in before she finished work. He just hoped they wouldn't keep him out too late. He spent the entire walk gazing at the ground, trying to think of a plausible excuse to leave early. As a result he didn't pay attention to where they were headed until they stopped and Mike looked at the familiar building.

_This just gets better and better…_

"You coming, Mike?" April asked, linking her arm through his playfully.

Mike allowed himself to be led inside the dark and smoky tavern, taking a seat at a table in a shadowy corner with his brothers and friends. The tavern was crowded, typical for a Saturday night, but it made him nervous and, with a quick glance at his brothers, he could tell they were nervous too. It had been awhile since they had been in such a large crowd. It kept them all on edge. Still, this was supposed to be a relaxing night so Mike leaned back and joined in the casual conversation.

A mildly familiar male voice was speaking nearby. Mike frowned as he tried to place it.

"She's a sweet little piece, alright." The voice was bragging to a small group of men. "Playing the innocent, but we all know what that really means!" The table erupted in drunken laughter and Michelangelo pulled his attention away, disgusted. His father had taught all of them to respect others, especially children and the elderly, but also women.

"Bring that sweet ass here, honey!" Another man called out as a waitress weaved towards the table, a tray of drinks balanced precariously in her hands. She reached their table and handed out drinks, but the moment the last drink had been set on the table she was pulled into the lap of the laughing man.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm working."

Michelangelo stiffened in his seat at the sound of that voice.

_Can this night get any better? _he thought sarcastically.

He had actually begun to rise from his seat before he heard Leo hiss at him to sit down.

"Leave it, Mike. It's not our fight."

With great effort Mike sat, but his eyes were now riveted to the nearby table.

Grace was already standing back up, straightening her skirt. An unpleasant looking man looked her up and down.

"Now now, Gracie, my brother is visiting from out of town. You just consider being nice to him."

"I don't recall that being part of my job description," she responded tartly before turning to leave.

The man stood up, leaning his face to hers until his mouth was almost pressed against her ear.

"You just wait, missy. I'll teach you some manners."

The other men laughed again, and the man pinched her bottom blatantly before allowing her to leave.

"Mike?"

Mike had been so full of barely contained rage he hadn't heard the conversation around him. Now he realised he was acting out of character. Taking a deep breath he put a smile on his face.

"Sorry, just enjoying the view." He smiled at this partially true statement as he glanced at Grace's derriere before it disappeared behind the bar. They ordered their drinks from another passing waitress and waited for them to be brought over.

April and Casey were grinning at the guys and Mike suddenly wondered if there was another reason they were all out together.

Leonardo had noticed too and was the first to speak.

"So what is it you wanted to tell us?"

April pouted prettily. "There's no hiding anything from you guys, is there?" She was smiling though. She turned to Casey questioningly.

"Nah, you tell them babe."

"You sure?"

"Come on," Raph interrupted. "Will someone just tell us?"

"Ok, we're finally getting married." April blurted, a big grin on her face.

"About time!" Raphael said, leaning across the table to shake Casey's hand.

"Congratulations!" Leo and Mike both said, smiling at the happy couple.

"So when is the big event planned for?" asked Donatello curiously.

"It won't be a big event," Casey answered. "We don't really know that many people, so it will be a small thing. In fact…we were just going to go and get a licence and do it. But…" he added quickly at the uproar, "We were hoping to have the reception with you guys and Splinter. We'll give it a few weeks so we can get everything organised but yeah." He ran a hand sheepishly through his long, dark hair. "We just wanna do it. April's been waitin' long enough for this."

He sobered and leaned over to give April a kiss.

Mike found himself suddenly longing for that kind of companionship. Someone to love…

_Love? Who would want to love a turtle?_

"Congratulations April. And you too, Casey."

Once again Mike felt himself tense at that soft voice. He glanced at his brothers, who were staring with interest at the girl who had spoken.

Grace placed the drinks on the table carefully, smiling at the happy couple. She was glad to see them again, and felt guilty for not visiting them as she had promised. She glanced at the figure sitting in the darkness next to Casey, recognising with a thrill the twinkling blue eyes.

"Hello again, Michelangelo."

"Er…hi there."

His voice was very different to what she was used to. When he spoke to her it was always soft, deep and made her weak at the knees. Tonight it was strained and it seemed he was forcing himself to sound bright and bubbly. Was he perhaps not happy to see her?

"You know her?" Another of the figures was speaking, his voice obviously disbelieving.

"Yeah Leo…she's just a friend of mine."

Grace felt her face redden, her chest felt strangely empty. During their hours together she had always dreamed she was perhaps more than a friend to him, that maybe, in some way, he truly cared about her. She had obviously been wrong.

"Why don't you join us for a few minutes?" Casey offered.

"Sorry, I can't." Grace and Mike made eye contact for a brief moment before she turned away. "Besides," she added quietly, "I won't stay where I'm not wanted." She blended into the crowd.

"Grace!" Mike called, but she disappeared from sight.

"What was that all about, little brother?" Leo asked sternly.

"Just a friend?" Raph snorted. "You really have a way with the ladies Mikey."

Mike slumped in his seat, sighing deeply. In trying to protect himself from Leo he had somehow hurt Grace, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Are you ok, Mike?" April asked softly.

Michelangelo nodded.

"No you're not. Talk to her."

"I will."

-----

Grace wasn't sure how she had managed to work the last few hours of her shift in her current mood. Every now and then she had glanced at Mike's table, envying him his family and friends. They were laughing and smiling at each other and were very obviously close. His laughter caused her heart to beat faster and she was furious at herself for letting him get to her. And just below the surface her eyes were hot and stinging, her throat was constricting.

She walked home a little slower, some small part of her hoping Mike would fall in step next to her once more but he didn't.

Heaving a sigh of regret she let herself into her home, stripping off her work clothes and slipping on a fluffy bathrobe, ready for a shower. Her door creaked.

"Mike?"

"No, sweet cakes."

It was Sean. Grace groaned in dismay.

"What do you want? Did I stuff up again? I'm sorry."

"No, not at all sugar. I just wanted to continue our conversation."

"What conversation?" Grace watched as Sean entered her room, pulling the door shut. She flinched when he turned the lock.

"You know…"Sean walked closer, looking casually around the room, "We never talk outside of work, honey. I want to know more about you."

"It's late, Sean, and I really need to get to bed."

"Let me help you." He lunged towards her, grabbing a handful of cloth. Grace clutched her robe tighter.

"You're drunk. Go home!"

"Not _that_ drunk." Sean lunged again, this time managing to unbalance Grace. She landed heavily on the floor, Sean scrambling over her. He tugged at the robe, pulling it off one shoulder. His face dipped to lick at her skin. Grace felt her stomach churn.

"I'll scream!"

"Who'd hear you darlin'? And if you do, I'll fire you. You'll have nowhere to go."

For the first time since he had entered her room, Grace felt real fear. Sean was not a thin man. His weight was crushing the breath out of her and there was no way she could move out from under him. Sean continued to lick her throat, his other hand struggling to get under her robe, brushing the skin of her upper thigh. His hand slipped further up.

_There's no way I'm going to let him do this without a fight!_

Grace screamed.

Sean lifted his head again, narrowing his gaze at her and grabbing her chin.

"This can either be quick and easy, or long and difficult, your choice."

He ripped the robe open to expose her breasts. Grace struggled to cover herself, whimpering as Sean bit down on her tender flesh.

A second later she was free. She watched Sean's body collide heavily with a wall, his figure slumping to the floor.

Michelangelo didn't glance at her as he strode over to Sean, grabbing the man by his shirt and lifting him to his feet.

"Get out," he snarled, his rage tangible.

"Make me." Sean spat at the figure holding him. Mike grinned.

"With pleasure."

Mike threw the man against the wall again, watching as he winced with pain but insisted on standing back up again. The man lunged at him and Mike easily sidestepped the clumsy move. Once more the man was on the floor.

"Ah," the man mumbled, getting up. "The bitch isn't worth my time."

The fist that connected with his chin was strong enough to lift him once more and land him near the door. Michelangelo looked down at the unconscious man with disgust and contempt, lifting him and throwing him out into the hallway. He closed the door again and finally turned to look at Grace.

She had covered herself back up and was standing shakily at the other end of the room.

"You've got to stop making a habit of this." He joked, trying to read her expression.

She blushed, but her eyes showed anger.

"Do you think I ask for this? Do you think I want some strange man trying to grope me? Do you think…do you think I _enjoy_ this?"

"Of course not!" Mike stepped closer to her, frowning as her eyes filled with tears.

"Until that night I met you it had never happened before!" She dropped her gaze to the floor. She was still hurting from Mike's earlier comment and wanted him to feel it too. "How do I know you're not just setting me up so you can _rescue_ me?"

"I would never…"

"I have to leave, I can't stay here. When Sean wakes up he'll come looking for me. You shouldn't have come."

"Is that what you would have preferred?" Mike snapped at her.

"Of course not." Grace echoed his earlier words. "But everything has gone downhill since I met you!"

Mike felt a sharp pang in the vicinity of his chest.

"I'll keep an eye on him while you have your shower, then I'll leave…for good."

Grace didn't even look back as she closed herself in her bathroom. She felt like screaming, like crying, like hitting something. She didn't know how it had happened, but she was falling in love with that giant lump of a turtle, that infuriating, that smug…

She stepped under the warm water, washing away the nights smoke, the beer smell, Sean's lingering scent.

She was worried about where she would go, but on the other hand she was relieved to be getting away from this hellhole.

_And away from Mike?_

She had been cruel, she knew it, but she was so confused, so upset, she couldn't think straight. He was her only friend in the whole world.

Grace choked back a sob, leaning her head against the cool wall of the shower bay. Mike was so…gentle, kind, strong. What would she do without him?

The sob finally erupted and she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Her tears mingled with the water from the shower. Her chest heaved with the effort to contain her emotions. She wasn't even aware of the door opening slightly, but she did hear Michelangelo asking her if she was ok.

She couldn't answer. Her throat was too raw with her sobbing.

A pair of cool hands circled her back, pulling her close to a firm plastron. She looked up into Mike's concerned face. Even after all her ranting he was still here for her, still caring…

Grace wrapped her arms around his neck, the water now beating down on both of them. She was almost unaware of her nakedness, but she didn't care. She knew she could trust him.

Michelangelo held her as she cried against his chest. He had panicked when he had heard the sounds of her crying; only planning to peek and make sure she was alright. But that small figure huddled at the bottom of the shower, sobbing hard, called to him.

He ran one hand down her back in a soothing manner, becoming fully aware of her nakedness when she shifted closer to him. His breath caught in his throat and he felt his body responding. He fought hard to keep his control, but he could feel the swell of her breasts, feel the soft skin under his hands.

Grace's body finally stopped shaking and she lifted her face to look up at him. To Mike amazement she raised herself up on her toes and leaned in to kiss him. Caught off guard, it was a few moments before Mike realised what was happening. With rapidly beating heart he returned the kiss, his broad tongue thrusting into her mouth, savouring her sweet taste. She was returning his kiss just as hungrily, her tongue tracing around his mouth and then twisting and twining with his in a seductive dance. He pulled her closer, relishing her softness against him. Her hands were trailing along the sensitive skin under the edge of his shell and she was pressing herself into him. With a deep groan he pushed her back against the shower wall, still kissing her hard. His hands lifted her arms above her head and held them there, his mouth moving to kiss down her delicate neck, his tongue flicking in and out, sampling her flavour.

A door slammed in the distance, bringing Mike harshly back into the real world. He straightened, gazing into Grace's passion darkened eyes, knowing his were the same.

He couldn't do this to her, not right now. It would be wrong of him to take advantage of her vulnerable state.

Reluctantly his hand found the tap and turned it off.

Grace's confused, hurt look almost sent him back into her arms but he resisted. He stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and handing it to her.

"I'm sorry, princess." And he truly was.

Grace took the towel, wrapping herself in it quickly.

"I forgot, I'm just your friend." She snapped.

"You're upset, so I'll ignore that." Mike answered, towelling himself dry.

"Well it's true! You don't want me…"

Mike stroked her cheek gently.

"Oh Grace, I want you more than you'll ever know, but now isn't the right time. Now, grab some things and I'll take you to Aprils. You can stay there. My brothers and I will come later and get the rest of your things. I'll take care of you."

He gave her a quick hug and ushered her out of the room.


End file.
